


Playpen

by CherryKind



Category: Original Work
Genre: ABDL, Age Regression/De-Aging, Ageplay, Infantilism, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryKind/pseuds/CherryKind
Summary: Hasley never thought he would end up in Dixon's hands in this way.





	1. Nursery

He remembered feeling cool as he started to rouse from unconsciousness. There was a mess of hair in his face and in his mouth so he raised a hand groggily to brush it away, but he noticed it was hard to raise his arm and when he did, his hand connected with his jaw with a little too much force.

Reeling at the dull pain, Hasley let out a groan and, with some effort, rolled over onto his side. He couldn't seem to recall what had happened or where he was, but whatever he was laying on felt soft and slick. Opening his bleary eyes again, the first thing he saw were solid white bars. Everything beyond them was just a blur of color.

"M-Mm..." He whined again and stretched his hand out, feeling the material of whatever he was laying on under his fingertips. It was an odd texture and vaguely, he could make out small designs of animals printed on it.

Then confusion gripped him. Where was he?

He decided to sit up, which he struggled to do, but he was eventually upright, propping himself up with his hands behind him. All of his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive and he had a pounding headache.

As his vision started to focus, he realized he was in a brightly colored room. The walls were colored in pastels and...he was in a crib. A white over-sized crib. With that realization, he gripped the material under him, finally noticing it was a mattress with a plastic cover and at the end of the crib, there was a crumbled fleece blanket and a pillow.

This was a nursery. He was in a giant nursery. The thought wasn't really processing properly. Taking a breath, Hasley tried to move to sit on his knees, but as soon as he lifted himself up, he fell back over and landed on the plush mattress with a soft  _ 'whump'. _

His muscles felt weak and he was shaking a little from the fall. Why couldn't he stand up? Letting out an annoyed sound, he once again tried to force himself up onto all fours, only for his arms and legs to tremble and give out again.

Now he knew something was wrong. He couldn't put any weight down without falling. So against his will, he laid flat on the mattress, his hair still in his face and his arms splayed out. He stayed like that for a long time, or at least it felt like that. In that time, he took in the rest of his surroundings in silence.

There was a dresser with a mirror to the right of the crib with little on it besides a white bottle of something, a similar white box, and a soft-looking brush. In the middle of the floor, there was a wide playpen; the bottom and mesh around it was a pale pink and there seemed to be some toys inside. It would have looked fine had it been a normal size.

There were white doors on the far wall and the one to the left, but they were both closed and likely locked, all things considered. There was also a changing table in the corner. On the ceiling above the playpen was a large mobile that spun slowly, colorful pictures of animals hanging from the strings. It looked like a normal nursery except everything was  _ too big. _

Exhaustion was just starting to take over when he heard something rattling. Opening his eyes fully, he saw the door directly across the room from him opening and someone stepping in. As panic took over, he scrambled up, forgetting how weak his limbs were, so he only succeeded in falling backwards and ending up on his back with a startled gasp.

"Calm down. You'll hurt yourself," a gruff voice spoke. Unfortunately, it was one that Hasley recognized. While he didn't relax, he didn't feel quite as out of his element.

"Dixon!" he snapped, finding his throat was sore from lack of use. "What have you done to me? Why am I here?" Hasley tried to sit up, finally managing to do so and see out over the edge of the crib. Dixon still stood by the door, but it was closed now. The man's dark coat and clothes seemed out of place in the bright room.

"I've given you a drug so you can't stand up. That's why you're as weak as you are. I suggest you don't try to climb out or you might get hurt." His voice was so level, it was infuriating. Hasley wrinkled his nose at the information, leaning forward and gripping the bars in his hands to support himself.

"I think I could have figured that much out on my own, asshole. Where am I? What's with all of...this?" He gestured wildly in reference to the nursery. Dixon scowled and walked over, causing Hasley to let go of the bars and put his back to the other side.

"Don't swear. You're in a nursery, can't you tell that? I brought you here to keep you safe. You already had wounds, you can't keep fighting like you were," he explained, though his voice wasn't nearly as sympathetic as his words.

"Since when do you care? You've tried to kill me before," Hasley snapped. "And...keep me safe? Th-This is...!" He didn't really know what to call it. It was all so bizarre and not at all what he would have expected for Dixon. The older man shrugged and reached in for him.

"You'll come to understand eventually. But be quiet now. I need to change you." That sent off alarms in his head and the blue-haired man began to squirm in an attempt to get away.

" _ Change me?! _ What are you talking about? Let go of me!" His voice got higher in pitch when he was actually grabbed, bringing his fists down against Dixon's shoulder and chest as he was lifted out of the crib. However, he found he wasn't dealing any damage and the other man hardly seemed effected by it.

"Hasley." Dixon growled his name and he faltered for a moment. That second was all that was needed for Dixon to right him properly in his arms, having him sit on his arm while his free hand was placed at the small of his back. Hasley felt a warm blush spreading across his face as he was carried across the room, over to the changing table.

"I'm not- You can't-" He couldn't finish his sentences; he didn't even know what to say and he was too shocked to continue fighting.

"Stay here." Dixon suddenly plopped him down on the carpet beside the changing table and left him there, going over to the dresser.

While Dixon was looking through the drawers, Hasley turned his head to see the objects under the changing table. There was a plastic container filled with...diapers. Beside it were some wipes and a bottle of powder. Seeing that, he bristled and turned onto his hands and knees.

He seemed to have gotten a little strength back into his legs so he tried to push himself to his feet, but that quickly failed as he stumbled and came crashing back onto the carpet.

At least it was soft.

Dixon turned his head to look at him, a stern frown on his face. "I told you to stay there. You're going to hurt yourself." He seemed to have found what he was looking for in the dresser so he came back over. Hasley briefly caught sight of folds of fabric in his hand before they were placed on the end of the table and Dixon reached down for him again.

As soon as he was back in the other's arms, the smaller of the two began to struggle again, pushing at his chest. "Let go of me! Dixon! This isn't funny!"

Then there was a sharp smack and he felt a mild stinging pain on his rear. That stunned him to fall still and silent, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Dixon had just-

"Be still." Without another word, he was laid on his back on the changing table, left to stare up at the ceiling. He didn't move for a minute as he heard Dixon shifting things under the table, still trying to register what had just happened. He only moved again when he felt fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt.

His hands were immediately snatched when he tried to push Dixon away this time and his arms were wrenched above his head. His shirt was pulled open, revealing his chest, then he was sat up and it was roughly pulled off over his head. Now he felt how cool the room was all over; he tried not to shiver.

"Wh..." He let out one last confused mumble before he went quiet, deciding to just let Dixon do what he wanted. It wasn't as if he could stop him in this state. He would just have to wait until he regained all of his strength.

His belt was unbuckled and dropped on the floor and his shorts followed after it, leaving him in his underwear. He was shaking now, more so from fear than the cool air of the room. When his underwear was pulled off, he jumped and frantically reached down to cover himself, but his hands were pushed away. "-!"

However, his nudity only lasted a few seconds as Dixon lifted him up just enough to put something under him, then something soft was brought between his legs and fastened around his waist. He knew what it was, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. What did Dixon expect, for him to  _ use it? _

He thought his shorts were being put back on, but he lifted his head a little and noticed another pair was put on him. They were a light blue and looked ridiculously puffy with the diaper beneath them, but they weren't tight around it. He looked to see what Dixon was unfolding and saw it was a yellow short sleeve shirt with some design on the front.

"Sit up and raise your arms," the older man commanded. This time, Hasley obeyed, sitting up with some work and putting his arms out so the shirt could be slipped over his head. It was a light material, comfortable, but he still would have rather kept his old clothes.

He sat on the edge of the changing table while Dixon moved to putting a pair of white socks on his feet. Scowling, Hasley kicked his foot away.

"I don't want to wear socks." Dixon shot him an annoyed glare, clearly tired of his antics already.

"You have to wear them. Hold still." Before he could move his foot again, the sock was slipped over it. But when he went to put the second one on, Hasley jerked his leg away again.

"I said no." There was a moment of hesitation before Dixon raised his hand and Hasley flinched instinctively.

"Do I have to spank you again?" the taller man hissed. The younger couldn't muster a reply and he dug his nails into the padded material on top of the table. When there was no response, Dixon grabbed his other foot and put the sock on it.

He was picked up after Dixon made sure all his clothes were on properly, held firmly against his chest when Hasley didn't fight anymore. He brought him to the crib and sat him back inside.

"You need to rest now. I'll be back in a few hours so you best sleep," Dixon commented, reaching for the blanket and pillow to straighten them. Hasley watched idly, but didn't respond, leaning so his back was against the bars on the other side of the crib.

"..."

Dixon cast him a curious glance, then stood straight and turned, going over to the playpen. He reached inside and plucked out a fluffy toy, something that looked like an dog, and brought it back to the crib. Hasley stared at it as it was offered to him, then glared, folding his arms to show his refusal.

The older man frowned, but sat the toy inside the crib anyway. "Suit yourself. But like I said, you should sleep." With that, he turned and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, Hasley caught sight of the small gold key he used to unlock it.

He turned the light out before he left and shut the door behind himself, but the room wasn't nearly as dark as Hasley had expected. There was a small nightlight in the corner, casting stars on the ceiling.

The blue-haired man sat there for a while, just staring at the door in the darkness, but his fatigue from earlier was starting to come back so eventually, he slumped over, then moved to lay on his back.

With one last thought to the situation he was in, he pulled the blanket over his bare legs and succumbed to exhaustion.


	2. Adjustments

Hasley wasn't sure how long he slept. The room was still dark when he finally opened his eyes, but the lack of windows or clocks kept him from knowing what time it was. It could have been daylight outside for all he knew.

He sat up, hearing the mattress creak under the shifting weight. He ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a weary sigh before realizing something. He was leaning on his arm and it wasn't giving out.

Slowly, he flexed his arms, then his legs. He could move properly again. He felt a rush of adrenaline pump through him as he stood up carefully in the crib, still hesitant to put his full weight on his legs. It worked, he could stand. He looked at the rail of the crib, then grabbed it and swung one leg over it.

It wasn't that high off the ground, probably lower than an actual baby crib, but his feet didn't touch the ground so he would still have to drop . Maneuvering his body onto the rail, he raised his other leg over until he was dangling off the side. Sucking in a sharp breath, he let go and landed onto the carpet with a thump.

He needed to hurry. If Dixon meant what he had said and Hasley had slept several hours already, he could be back at any time.

He stood up again, using the crib for support. His legs weren't completely back to normal, but they weren't wobbling under him either so he was confident he could fight if he needed to. Beginning to look around frantically, he turned his head, looking for a vent or something he might be able to use to escape.

His eyes landed on the other door so he figured it was worth a shot. Walking over, he tried the handle to find it was unlocked. Swinging the door open, it revealed a small bathroom with a large white tub, a sink, and a toilet with some kind of lock keeping it shut; a child safety lock.

His face flared in embarrassment at the realization, then he remembered exactly what he was wearing. One glance in the mirror above the sink reminded him he looked like an over-sized baby.

Gritting his teeth, he let his focus of escaping drift for a moment as he angrily pulled the shorts down and ripped the diaper off. However, he didn't know where his old clothes were, so he promptly pulled the bottom back up, leaving the diaper discarded on the floor.

He went over to the tub and pushed the childishly designed curtain back, silently praying there would be a window behind it that was big enough for him to squeeze through, but there was no such luck. There wasn't a window in the room at all.

His heart was beating fast. Now what could he do? Vents. He looked around near the floor for one, but found nothing so he looked up and saw there was one directly above the toilet. It was small, but maybe he could fit into it if he tried. But the question was, how was he supposed to reach it?

Putting a hand on the back of the toilet, he stepped up onto the lid and straightened, finding his fingertips could just touch the grate of the vent. He would need something to step up higher and, with some inspection he noticed, something to undo the screws holding the vent to the ceiling.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

He stepped off the toilet and rushed out into the main room, looking for anything with a sturdy enough edge he may be able to use on the screws. None of the toys had anything hard enough and there was little else in the room he could try. As frustration began to take over, he let out a groan and headed back to the bathroom.

There were child locks on the cabinet doors under the sink, but they were no match for someone who knew how to open them and they were off in seconds. He found some washcloths, sweet smelling bars of soap, and a few bottles of baby shampoo, none of which were helpful. Then he found a tiny yellow toothbrush.

It was definitely sturdy enough. The end tapered to a rounded point that may fit into the screws. Hasley didn't have any other option at that point, so he lifted himself back onto the toilet and put the end of the toothbrush into the screw and started to turn it.

It was damaging the toothbrush and he hoped it could make it through 3 other screws, but after a minute or so, the little object fell out of its hole and hit the tile floor with a sharp clink. The man took a slow breath and started working on another.

It took a full 10 minutes for the others to join the first on the floor, the process getting harder and harder to complete each time, but after the fourth fell out, Hasley caught the grate in his hands and bent down to sit it on the floor. Now he had a way to get out, but there was no way he could reach it where he was now.

He didn't have time to contemplate what he might put on top of the toilet to get closer to the vent before he heard the familiar rattling of keys unlocking the door. The shock almost cause him to fall, but he caught himself before he hit the ground. This was bad.

He heard feet on the carpet as someone, he assumed Dixon, entered the room, then a sudden halt in his walking. Panicking, Hasley went over to the cabinet under the sink and sat inside it, pulling his legs up to his chest and moving back, then shutting the doors. It was times like this he was glad he was as small as he was.

He heard more frantic walking and a frustrated noise from Dixon, then he saw a shadow through the slit of light under the cabinet door. Maybe Dixon would think he had already escaped through the vent? Hasley dared not breathe, much less move, as he listened to the deafening silence.

Then the doors swung open abruptly, light flooding into the darkness of the cabinet. He couldn't help, but cry out in surprise, unable to do anything as two large hands reached in, grabbed his arms, and drug him out.

"You almost had me worried there for a second," Dixon spoke in an almost amused tone, but his annoyance was clear. Hasley bit his tongue as he was pulled out of the cabinet and his butt hit the floor, gathering his strength as he readied himself to fight. He didn't speak before launching himself at the older man.

Dixon was obviously caught off guard as he stumbled and his back hit the wall. Hasley fought in the only way he knew how in such close quarters, by clawing at the man's face and eyes. But Dixon was stronger than him, he knew that. So his squabbling only lasted a few seconds behind his shoulders were grabbed and he was flung to the ground.

He landed half in, half out of the bathroom, his head bouncing off the soft carpet of the nursery. His vision spun, which rendered him unable to stop Dixon as the other man gripped him and flipped him onto his stomach, his knees scraping against the carpet.

He didn't have time to come up with a response before his shorts were pulled down and Dixon delivered several stinging smacks to his behind. Eyes widening, the younger of the two screamed at the sharp pain and began to struggle, but Dixon's free hand was at the center of his back, holding him down.

"You have to accept your punishment. You've been bad. You don't leave this room without me, do you understand?" Dixon's voice was even, but stern, a contrast to Hasley's frenzied cries at the smacks. He stopped after ten blows, realizing Hasley would likely be feeling that enough for the next couple days.

The blue-haired man was out of breath when they finally came to a stop, his hands in fists against the carpet as he laid there. He felt weak and his face was wet from where tears had eventually begun to run out of his eyes. He felt ridiculous; humiliated. And even though Dixon was no longer touching him, his skin was bright red and burning.

He hissed when Dixon pulled his shorts back up, but he still didn't move, wondering if he just laid there long enough, he would leave him alone. But, as everything else that morning, nothing seemed to be working out for him.

He heard Dixon doing  _ something, _ but he didn't want to turn his head and look. Before he could make out the sound, he felt the hand being replaced on his back and a sharp pain in his neck, drawing out another startled sound. It was an injection of some kind, it burned when it went in, but the needle was withdrawn before he could try to swat at it.

"Wh-What was that?!" Hasley demanded. His voice was hoarse from crying and it hurt to speak, but he had no idea what he had just been given and that scared him.

"I thought that perhaps I could trust you to not need muscle relaxers, but it seems I was wrong. But that's no problem. This makes everything much easier," the man replied. Hasley felt himself being picked up off the floor, but quickly found the dead, heavy feeling was already flowing back into his limbs.

Not again. He almost wanted to cry from pure frustration now. He figured Dixon must have noticed that he had removed his diaper because he was being carried to the changing table again. This time, he didn't fight being laid on the padded surface, letting his arms drop at his sides. It felt like too much effort to move them.

His shorts were pulled down around his ankles and Dixon placed a fresh diaper under him, taping it up at his hips, then he pulled the shorts back up over it. He rested a hand on Hasley's waist as he looked at him, seeing the glazed look in the younger's eyes.

"Do you need to go to the bathroom?" he asked. The question caused Hasley to perk up, his expression turning to one of disgust and confusion.

"No. You're sick," he spat. Now that he thought about it, he really did need to, but the urge wasn't that strong right now. He could wait. If he would be left alone again, he was sure he could figure out the lock on the toilet.

"Fair enough." Dixon didn't press the issue, picking Hasley up off the table and bringing him over to the playpen. Hasley didn't protest being dropped in, sitting on the slick material dumbfoundedly.

There were some alphabet blocks and stuffed animals, a ring with plastic keys, and some board books piled in the corner. A couple pillows and one large fluffy blanket were laid close by, ready for a nap. Hasley noticed the sides of the playpen were higher than they looked; if he stood up, it would still take him a moment to get out.

"I have some lunch for you. You have to be hungry by now." Dixon disappeared over the edge of the playpen, but Hasley could still see him through the pink mesh on the sides. On the dresser, there was a plastic plate and a sippy cup.

He shouldn't have been surprised after everything else, but he still found himself blushing profusely as Dixon brought him his meal, sitting it on the floor inside the pen.

The plate was in the shape of a bear with some design on the bottom and it held a sandwich cut into fourths and bite-size pieces of fruit. He had no idea what was in the pink sippy cup adorned with butterflies.

"Are you sure there's no poison in it?" he commented sarcastically, but he couldn't deny his hunger. Besides, he highly doubted Dixon would poison him after all of this work to get him here. He scooted over to the plate and picked up a cube of fruit from it, popping it into his mouth. Pear. It tasted nice and made his stomach growl for more.

"No poison, I promise," Dixon replied teasingly, flashing a smile when Hasley began to eat. He was silently glad there wasn't more of a fight to get his captive to eat, but he supposed two days without anything to eat or drink left him not caring to go on a hunger strike.

Hasley was eating more than he initially thought he would. The pieces of pear were gone in a matter of seconds and he decided to try whatever drink was in the sippy cup, as humiliating as drinking from it was. It turned out to be milk; not what he would have preferred, but welcome nonetheless. He moved on to a piece of the sandwich, thankful that that had much more flavor than the pear or milk.

"So care to tell me why you actually have me here?" he asked in passing as he finished the first quarter of the sandwich. Dixon had made himself comfortable leaning against the dresser, looking at something on his phone. He looked up at the question.

"I told you; to keep you safe," he replied.

"Bullshit." The snarky response from Hasley earned him a glare.

"No swearing. I don't care if you believe me or not. It doesn't make a difference," Dixon continued, shrugging. Hasley chose not to continue that conversation as he finished eating. The plate was clean when he stopped and he downed the rest of the milk in the sippy cup.

"I'm done." Dixon got up and collected the empty plate and cup from the playpen.

"I'll leave you here for a while. Feel free to entertain yourself." It was followed by a small smirk as Dixon turned to leave the room. "I'll be back in a few hours. Try to behave yourself this time, alright?"

That comment spurred more anger in Hasley, but he remembered he couldn't really do anything about it now that he had lost control of his muscles again. He had no choice, but to stay in the playpen and waste however long "a few hours" turned out to be. Dixon left the room, but left the light on this time; Hasley heard the lock engage a moment after the door closed.

He was briefly reminded of the urge to urinate, but he pushed it away and leaned over onto the blanket and pillows, staring up at the mobile that still spun weakly over the pen. Maybe he could fit in a nap just to pass the time.


	3. Stubborn

When Hasley woke up, it briefly occurred to him he probably shouldn't be sleeping so much and instead trying to push past the effects of the muscle relaxer and trying to escape. But the bed in the playpen had been far more comfortable than he had expected and he had dozed off within minutes.

As he sat up, he winced at the dull, sensitive pain in his backside. Dixon had really done a number on him. He thought perhaps he could try to get out of the playpen now, but his legs still felt too weak to stand so he was stuck on the floor for now. But he needed to get around somehow.

With an exasperated sigh, Hasley moved onto all fours. Crawling really seemed fitting seeing where he was, but he had no other choice. He crawled over to the corner where an assortment of toys was strewn out, then sat down to look through them.

The plastic keys could be useful, but the edges were rounded off so it wouldn't be good for anything like the toothbrush he had used before. The stuffed animals were useless and the books...

He reached over for one of the paperboard books, sitting back to flip through it. It was a children's book obviously, extremely uninteresting, but he found himself looking through them all just to pass the time. Once he was done, he sat them back in a pile and reached for the blocks.

Before his hand came to rest on one, he felt a sharp pain in his bladder that reminded him of his earlier urges. It was definitely stronger now. He was going to have to go before too long. Maybe now was when he could figure out how to escape the playpen and go to the bathroom.

He crawled to the edge of the playpen and pressed his weight against the side, annoyed when he found it was much sturdier than it looked and wasn't going to budge even with all of his weight against it. He stood up on his knees, gripping the top of the wall to hold himself up, but he couldn't rise past there.

Swearing under his breath, he eventually came to the frustrating conclusion he was going to have to use the diaper eventually. He doubted, even with begging, Dixon would let him use the toilet. It would break this character he seemed to be forcing on him.

He pressed a hand between his legs to soothe the discomfort, which worked for a while, but the urge never fully disappeared. He was past that point now. But he was still going to put it off for as long as he could hold it.

He looked up when the door rattled and opened, drawing his attention from his issue.

"Has it really already been a few hours? I was enjoying the silence," Hasley said sarcastically. Dixon dismissed his commentary as he closed the door behind himself. In his hand was a bottle, not a sippy cup, filled with white liquid. Hasley eyed it cautiously, but didn't bring it up.

"Do you need to be changed?" the older man asked. Hasley's face went red at the question and he shifted onto his knees.

"No. I'm not using a diaper like a baby," he snapped. Dixon frowned at him, then turned and went over to the pen. He collapsed the side in a way Hasley didn't even know it was capable of doing and he began straightening the bed.

"If you have to go now, I suggest you go willingly. That will be much better for both of us."

"I said no."

"Fine then."

Once the bed was fixed, Dixon put the side of the crib back up, then went back over to the crib. Hasley let out a startled sound when he was suddenly grabbed and lifted out, only feeling more awkward when he was suddenly cradled like a newborn in the man's arms. Now he wished he wasn't as small as he was.

Dixon sat down on the floor and crossed his legs, holding Hasley in his lap. He almost asked what Dixon was doing, but when he reached for the bottle, he had a pretty good idea. A second later, Dixon shoved the rubber nipple of the bottle into his mouth. The blue-haired man didn't really know how to react at first, staring in stunned confusion between the bottle and Dixon.

He tried to push the tip out with his tongue, but Dixon was relentless in keeping it in his mouth. With all the struggling, some of the liquid spilled out and he found it was warm and had a different taste and texture than the milk from before. It was much thicker and more bland, but it wasn't bad.

Seeing as there was no way out, he reluctantly began to suck, glaring at Dixon the entire time. This man was determined to embarrass him. Was that the entire aim of this?

Despite how much he hated this, he found himself relaxing in Dixon's arms. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable and the drink was warming him from the inside. He had almost completely relaxed when he felt another pain in his bladder.

He shifted a little in the older man's arms to press his legs together, hoping to stifle the urge for a while longer. It didn't help he was only putting more fluid in without relieving himself.

The bottle was empty within a couple minutes. With his head in the crook of Dixon's arm, he looked up at him questioningly as the nipple was taken out of his mouth. Dixon sat the bottle on the dresser, then readjusted how he was cradling Hasley.

"Surely now you have to use the bathroom. You haven't gone in a very long time," the man commented. Hasley stayed still, afraid moving would trigger another bout of discomfort.

"I said I don't have to. Drop it, Dixon," Hasley snapped. Dixon raised an eyebrow at his name, moving to let his free hand rest on Hasley's lower stomach, which at the moment was a very sensitive place.

"Don't call me that." The blue-haired man furrowed his brow, glancing down at the other's hand as he contemplated pushing it away.

"What are you talking about? That's your name."

"If you're going to be my baby, you're going to have to address me as your father." A smug, playful grin spread on Dixon's face, amusement flashing in his eyes. Hasley tensed a the statement, then started thrashing frantically.

"Wh-What?! You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to call you anything like that, you sick- Ah!" His cursing and struggling was cut off when he was made sit up on Dixon's lap and the other man's hand connected with his backside. It wouldn't have hurt quite as much had he not already been bruised there.

"How many times do I have to tell you no swearing?" Dixon only sounded exasperated at this point. Hasley let out a whimper as the dull pain faded only for it to pierce his front from being sat up. He really had to go now.

"You can stop hiding it from me. We both know this is going to happen so you may as well take care of the problem before you're in more discomfort than you already are," Dixon continued.

Hasley gave him a furious glare, but couldn't bring himself to reply, looking away. If he ended up urinating in the diaper anyway, he sure as hell wasn't going to do so while sitting on Dixon's lap. "Alright then. I suppose we'll sit here until you do."

Hasley clenched his fists on his legs, eyes burning. He hated everything about this. What had he done to deserve such cruel punishment?

Needless to say, Dixon did indeed keep him in place for the next 35 minutes, making no comment when Hasley began to subtly rock back and forth miserably. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had last relieved himself, but it had been far too long and it was all coming back on him now.

He couldn't stop the gasp that came out of his mouth when he leaked into the diaper. It wasn't much, but stopping it caused him to choke, leaning into Dixon almost in defeat. Still, the older of the two stayed silent, keeping one arm around him and the other resting on his stomach.

After another 15 minutes or so, Hasley lost the fight and squeezed his eyes shut as he wet himself. He held his breath so he didn't make any sounds, relief washing over him as he emptied his bladder. It felt odd and hot, but not nearly as unpleasant as he assumed it would be. Though the worst was yet to come.

"Good boy," Dixon's voice had a slight mocking tone, but he actually seemed satisfied for once. He moved back and stood up, leaving Hasley on the ground so he could straight himself, then he picked him up again.

Hasley found himself pressing his legs together still so none of the liquid spilled out since he wasn't even finished yet and having the thing leak would just be the cherry on top of all of this. Dixon carried him over to the changing table just as he finally finished, laying him on his back.

The relief that followed almost outweighed the embarrassment he felt from having his rival change his soaked diaper. He stared at the ceiling as he heard the tape tear and the plush material be pulled down from his front.

He almost expected a sarcastic remark from the man, but there was only the quiet sounds of Dixon removing the dirty diaper and gathering some things from under the table and Hasley was perfectly fine with the silence.

He suddenly jerked and looked up in alarm when he felt something cold and wet touch his skin. He was greeted with Dixon using a baby wipe to clean him up and he quickly laid his head back down, not wishing to see someone doing that to him, even though he could still feel it.

Dixon was thorough, if he had anything to say about that experience. His captor used a sprinkle of baby powder between his legs, then slid a clean diaper under him and taped it up, just like he had before. Hasley let out a quiet sigh, realizing he actually felt much better now that he no longer had to use the bathroom and the diaper was clean.

"There. Was that so hard?" Dixon chuckled. Hasley scowled at the ceiling, but didn't reply as he was picked back up and brought to the playpen again.

"Don't tell me you're going to leave me here with nothing to do for another 3 hours," Hasley groaned, letting his hands drop to his sides with a thump when he was sat down inside the pen.

"I have things I need to do," Dixon shrugged. "But don't worry. I have a present for you." Hasley's interest was piqued at the statement, eyeing Dixon cautiously as he folded his arms.

"...A present. What is it, exactly?"

"This." Dixon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, wiping it on his sleeve before reaching down and abruptly shoving it into Hasley's mouth before he had time to see what it was.

"Gh-!" The younger choked and swatted his hand away before ripping the thing out of his mouth and staring at it. It turned out to be a small white and blue pacifier with a print of a cartoonish dog and a star on the back. He screwed his expression, then raised his head to glare at Dixon.

"Should have known. Thanks." He promptly threw the pacifier away, catching a glimpse of it bouncing off the mesh side of the playpen before coming to a stop beside the crumpled mess of blankets.

Dixon snorted under his breath, seemingly entertained by his reaction. "You're welcome. I'll be back soon." He collected the empty bottle from the dresser and went to the door; a moment later, it closed and Hasley heard the familiar sound of the lock.


	4. Bathtime

Dixon was gone for a very long time. Or at least, it felt like it. Hasley was ready to start climbing the walls by the time the door opened again.

"Where have you been?" the captive demanded. How funny it was, he hated Dixon and he hated being here, but he hated being trapped in a room, helpless, with no sense of time more. He was also starting to feel a bit hungry and he was putting off wetting the diaper again, though he had a feeling that would end before too long.

"I told you," Dixon shut the door and turned to face the playpen, revealing he was holding a plate with a meal on it and a bottle like the one before, "I had things to do. Here, I brought you dinner." Hasley's annoyed expression relaxed at the mention of food and he sank back down onto the floor of the playpen as Dixon sat the plate inside.

There were some slices of carrot and green beans and the bigger compartment of the plate held mashed potatoes with a spoon stuck in the side. Dixon sat a sippy cup filled with apple juice beside the plate, then stepped back to let him eat.

"I've been meaning to ask. Is there any food you don't like or won't eat?" Hasley had grabbed a few pieces of carrot and was starting to eat when he heard the older man ask. He thought for a moment, then shrugged, waiting until he swallowed to reply.

"I don't like fish or any kind of seafood really. That's all." He wasn't picky, which is why he wasn't complaining about the meals he was being given. A small part of him was surprised Dixon was bothering to feed him anyway.

Hasley watched Dixon walk across the room out of the corner of his eye, heading for the bathroom, but he ignored it, more occupied with eating. The small portion of mashed potatoes didn't last long and neither did the juice in the sippy cup. He felt like he could still eat more.

"I would appreciate more food though. My stomach actually is bigger than a 2-year-old's," he commented aloud, pushing the plate and cup back. He turned onto his knees to face the open bathroom door when he got no response.

The light inside was on, but he couldn't see what was happening. Suddenly, he could hear water running, which got his attention. What on earth was Dixon doing?

A minute later, Dixon came out of the bathroom with his jacket removed and his sleeves rolled up, the water still running in the background. Now everything made sense. Hasley's eyes widened and he backed himself into the corner of the playpen.

"Wh-What are you doing? Come on-" He yelped as he was grabbed and lifted up. He was a bit embarrassed when he noticed his arms instinctively went around the other's shoulders to hold on, but he didn't have time to think before he was being carried back to the bathroom.

"You need a bath. Won't that be nice before you go to bed?" Dixon questioned. He nudged the bathroom door shut with his foot. The curtain to the shower was pushed back and the bathtub was slowly filling up with water from the faucet. Dixon sat Hasley down on the cold tile floor, then went back to the tub. "Do you want bubbles?"

Hasley only stared in response, propping himself up on his hands. He had no intentions of answering such a ridiculous question because he doubted Dixon would let him bath himself. This was potentially going to be worse than the diaper changes.

Dixon shrugged and dumped a bit of soap into the water, watching as foamy white bubbles began to form under the water running out of the faucet. He bent down beside the tub, then motioned for Hasley to come over.

Reluctantly, the blue-haired man got on his hands and knees and crawled over, sitting back beside him. He tensed up when Dixon slid his hands under the hem of his shirt, then pulled it over his head, but he remained silent. He knew by now protesting would get him nowhere.

"Stand up and lean on me," Dixon instructed. Hasley sighed heavily and pushed himself up, holding onto Dixon for support as his legs trembled and wobbled under him. It surprised him that the muscle relaxer still hadn't completely worn off even after all this time. Dixon pulled his shorts down, then grabbed his hips and lifted him off of his own shoulder so he could stand properly.

"Do you need to go to the bathroom before you get in the tub?" he asked. Hasley scowled at him, which told him all he needed to know, but he continued anyway. "If you don't have to, try anyway so there's no accidents."

"I don't have to go," Hasley replied stubbornly.

"Try," Dixon looked up at him, his expression turning stern. When he heard nothing, he reaffirmed his statement again with a light smack on Hasley's rear, causing him to jerk and let out a soft gasp. "I said try."

A second later, he heard the familiar sound of urine hitting the inside of the diaper and the front turned a pale yellow. Hasley was flushed and refused to look at him, instead watching the water fill the bathtub. When Dixon was sure he had finished, he tore the tape and pulled the diaper off, folding it and tossing it into the bin in the corner.

He stood up and turned off the faucet, then turned and lifted Hasley up, over the edge, and into the warm water. Hasley tensed a little when he was sat in the water, his hair just long enough to dip under the surface. He hated that Dixon would be bathing him, but he was glad he was going to be clean nonetheless. His hair was greasy and his skin felt dirty.

Dixon grabbed some things off the floor beside the tub, revealing it was a soft pink washcloth and a bar of soap that had a floral smell to it. He dipped the items into the water, then rubbed the soap on the cloth and put it against Hasley's arm, beginning to rub it.

Hasley stayed still as it all happened, fighting it would be useless and...well, he hadn't had a bath since he was a child. He always took showers himself, standing up under the shower head, so this was bringing back fond memories. The steamy air of the bathroom and the frothy bubbles around him made him feel relaxed so before too long, he found himself leaning against the sloped back of the tub.

Dixon washed his arms and back, pulling his hair out of the way and draping it over his shoulder as he cleaned, then he moved on to his front. Hasley's eyes were half-lidded now as he let out a sigh. Dixon smirked a little at the reaction, moving the cloth lower with each motion.

"This isn't as bad as you thought it would be, is it?" he chuckled, not really expecting a reply. However, he felt Hasley shift uncomfortably as he moved the cloth between his legs. "I have to wash there too, Hasley. It'll only take a moment." Hasley shot him a glare, but spread his legs a moment later to let him finish.

Once his body was done, Dixon wrung the cloth out and laid it on the edge of the tub, going back down for a bottle of yellow tinted shampoo. "Turn around for me." Hasley grumbled something under his breath, possibly a word he wasn't supposed to use, but he did as he was told, turning his back to Dixon.

The older man poured a bit of the shampoo into his hand, then put it in the soft blue locks. After he sat the bottle down, he put both hands on Hasley's head and began to work the shampoo in, forming bubbles on his head.

Hasley let out a content sound as this continued, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He had been relaxed before, but this was incredible, he couldn't deny it. He tried desperately to remind himself it was Dixon, his rival, doing this to him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

It took longer to wash Hasley's hair than Dixon thought it would. He reached for the container he would use to rinse the soap out and dipped it into the water, then raised it over his head, holding Hasley's chin up so all the water ran down his back. After a few rinses, all the lather was gone.

Dixon sat the container aside and stood, grabbing a plush towel from the rack in the corner, then he spread it and held it in front of him. "Alright. Can you get out?" Hasley looked back at him, then at the towel.

"...I'll try." He put his hands on the edge of the tub and shakily brought himself to his feet, reaching out to grab the towel as he raised one foot at a time out of the water. Once he was out and standing on the bathmat, Dixon wrapped the towel around him and went to let the water out of the tub.

He took a separate smaller towel and put it on top of Hasley's head, grinning when the man ducked, but ended up with the material on his head regardless. He began to rub his hair with the towel while Hasley set to drying himself off. Once he was finished, Dixon hung up both of the towels to dry.

He didn't give Hasley a choice as he scooped him up bridal style, drawing a startled yelp from the younger, and he carried him out of the bathroom into the nursery. He brought him to the changing table and Hasley immediately laid back out of habit. He didn't notice what he had done until Dixon was already lifting his legs to put a new diaper under him.

He was getting used to this so soon. He couldn't believe it. He felt anger flare in his chest a bit at the realization, but he didn't allow it to show as Dixon taped up the diaper, then went over to the dresser to get him some clean clothes.

The muscle relaxer had mostly worn off by now. He was still a little unbalanced, but he could probably hold his own. As Hasley sat up to look at Dixon across the room, he let it set in that he could try to escape again.

But he didn't. He stayed where he was until Dixon collected his clothes, shut the drawers, and his opportunity was gone.

Dixon had picked out a lilac colored shirt with a butterfly design on the front and yellow shorts, along with a pair of white socks like the others, but these had a frill of lace around the top. Briefly, he wondered how Dixon had figured out his clothing size and gotten an entire wardrobe for him before he had even been brought here.

He put his arms up automatically to slip the shirt on, then leaned back so Dixon could pull the shorts up over the puffy diaper he wore. He didn't even fight when Dixon took his ankle and put a sock on each foot.

Dixon reached under the table again and grabbed a small purple bottle, turning it upside down and pouring a little of whatever was inside into his palm. Hasley looked at it curiously, even more so when Dixon took his arms and began rubbing it into his skin. He realized it was baby lotion just as the sweet powdery smell hit his nose.

Needless to say, Hasley did feel quite relaxed and ready to sleep. He hadn't taken a nap when he had been left alone the second time so he was already pretty drowsy to begin with. Dixon must have been able to see it too. He picked him up and went over to the dresser where he had sat the bottle, then he sat on the floor and cradled Hasley in his lap like before.

The nipple of the bottle was put in his mouth and Hasley experimentally sucked on it before determining it was the same formula as earlier that day and quickly beginning to drink the rest. Exhaustion caught up with him there as the warmth spread in his stomach and within a couple minutes, he found himself struggling to stay awake.

When the bottle was empty, Dixon let him lay in his arms for a while, watching the younger man fade in and out of sleep before he finally stood up, causing Hasley to perk up a little. He carried him over to the freshly made crib and laid him inside it, pulling the blanket up over him.

Hasley let out a sigh as he was put inside the crib, but he didn't move from the place he was laid down. The plastic cover on the mattress made it a little less comfortable then a normal bed would be, but he was too tired to care. He really wanted to sleep now.

Dixon watched him for a moment, then smiled and went over to the playpen. He found the pacifier he had given him earlier and walked back to Hasley, finding the blue-haired man had already fallen asleep.

There was little resistance when he put the pacifier into the other's mouth. He didn't suck on it, but he didn't spit it out either. That was good enough for Dixon.

Chuckling to himself, he collected the things he had brought in with him and went to the door, turning off the light and leaving Hasley to sleep.


	5. Outside

Hasley had woken up in the crib. For once, he didn't freak out; he just stayed where he was until he stopped fading in and out of unconsciousness and fully woke up. He had noticed something was in his mouth, but until he completely roused up, he didn't realize it was the pacifier from the day before.

He felt disgust flare in his chest as he took the thing out and laid it on the mattress beside him. Dixon must have put it in his mouth after he fell asleep.

After he fell asleep in Dixon's arms after drinking from a bottle.

He groaned under his breath and set up, arching his back just as the door opened.

"You slept late," Dixon commented. Hasley gave him a clearly annoyed, but still vaguely tired look.

"I don't even know what time it is."

"It's 10:30. Come on, let's get moving. I have a surprise for you." Dixon didn't hesitate to come over and reach into the crib, fitting his hands under Hasley's arms and lifting him up.

Hasley knew he was heading for the changing table so he quickly began emptying his bladder on the way over, his head resting against Dixon's shoulder. Dixon was aware so he let him sit on the table to finish while he collected the things from the shelf underneath.

Hasley swung his legs off the table in boredom, briefly letting himself wonder if this was going to be their everyday routine. Was he just supposed to continue this forever? He was distracted from his thoughts by a different feeling in his abdomen, but one he recognized and he went pale.

He let Dixon lay him back on the table and let his arms stretch out at his sides as Dixon undid the diaper and pulled it off. Despite having mostly gotten used to urinating in the diaper, he had forgotten he was going to have to do something else as well. That, he didn't know how he would live down.

After using a wipe to clean him and putting a bit of powder between his legs, Dixon taped the clean diaper and pulled the younger man's shorts back up over it.

"What's the surprise?" Hasley asked, if not just to distract himself. Dixon went over to the dresser and began looking through the doors before pulling out a pair of...shoes? Hasley cocked his head questioningly; Dixon had only ever made him wear socks.

"We're going out today."

"Out? Out where? Into town?" Hasley felt panic rise inside him at the idea of being taken out in public in his current attire.

"No, just the backyard. You need some fresh air. I don't want to keep you cooped up in here," Dixon explained as he came back to the table. The shoes were white mary janes with a single strap over the top to hold on them. Upon closer inspection, Hasley saw that the straps were velcro. He watched as Dixon took his ankles and put the shoes on.

"Don't I get to eat?" he complained, narrowing his eyes at the other man. Dixon let a smile cross his face, letting out a little chuckle.

"Of course. We'll have lunch outside." That actually sounded more appealing than being left for hours in the playpen to amuse himself so Hasley didn't protest, but he still didn't reply to him after that. Dixon lifted Hasley up and brought him close to his chest, the younger's arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

He hated Dixon, he truly did, but fighting had proved to be useless and tiring. And for what? Yes, wearing a diaper was embarrassing, but Dixon was doing everything for him. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that somewhat.

Dixon carried his captive to the door and opened it, catching Hasley's interest. He hadn't really considered that going outside meant leaving the nursery. Perhaps he could figure out where they were.

Outside of the room was a lot less cheery and bright. The hall was dark and there were exposed pipes running along the ceiling. It wasn't a place Hasley even vaguely recognized. He looked around silently as Dixon took him down the hallway through a series of doors Hasley wasn't sure he could find his way out of again.

Then there was blinding light. After being in the confines of the nursery for nearly a week, the sun was almost too bright. He squinted against it, looking over his shoulder to see where he was.

It seemed like they were stepping out of a perfectly normal house, walking out onto a wooden deck that led to a quaint, green backyard with a white fence shielding view from the outside. The sky was blue and Hasley could hear birds chirping faintly.

On the deck in the shade of the awning was a table and a chair, along with a tall white highchair beside it. He already knew where he was going so he didn't even act surprised when Dixon raised the tray with one hand and sat him down in the highchair. The tray was lowered again in front of him, trapping him in his seat.

"I'm curious as to where you got all of this huge baby furniture," Hasley couldn't help, but comment offhandedly, to which Dixon didn't respond. From the table, he took a plate of food and a sippy cup and sat it on the tray, but before Hasley could start, Dixon walked behind him and buttoned a bib around his neck.

"Here. After this, you can go explore the yard," he said. Hasley was a bit surprised he would be allowed such freedom so soon, but decided not to question it as he took a fourth of the sandwich from the plate and began to eat. He was too hungry to care right then, even about the bib.

Since his request of bigger portions hadn't seemed to have been granted, he finished his meal quickly and downed the orange juice in the sippy cup. While he ate, Dixon had sat in the chair at the table and was looking through a newspaper while idly sipping a cup of coffee. Everything seemed painfully normal, despite how obviously abnormal it was.

"Can I go now?" 5 minutes later, impatience won over. Dixon gave him a look over the top of the newspaper much like a teacher might over the top of their glasses, then, with a sigh, lowered the paper and stood up.

"One moment." Before Hasley could question what he was doing, Dixon pulled something smooth and pink from his pocket, grabbed his leg, and fastened it around his ankle. It was a simple ring, but there was a small blinking green light on the side. Hasley stared at it in confusion before looking to Dixon for an explanation.

"Can't have you wandering too far away, can I?" Dixon gave him a playful smile. It clicked then that the object was some kind of tracking device or...something similar. Either way, it was something Hasley would expect from the man, but disappointing nonetheless. This just made his eventual escape harder.

"Whatever," he snapped under his breath as Dixon removed the plate and bib and lifted the tray. He was annoyed he had been sat on the deck instead of put upright on his feet, but as he was placed down, a familiar dead weight began to form in his legs.

Face taking on an expression of surprise and panic, he rocked and tried to get onto his hands and knees before the muscle relaxer completely took over. "Wh-What did you-!" He didn't remember feeling the prick of a needle. Had he simply been too distracted to notice?

"You're too small to be walking around just yet. You might hurt yourself so you'll have to crawl for now," Dixon explained as he went to sit back down at the table and return to his paper and coffee. Hasley tested his weight, finding his limbs weren't completely useless, but his legs were definitely too weak to stand on.

"O-Oh my god-" he gasped, this time in exasperation. He supposed just being able to walk around the yard would be too easy. Casting one last furious glare at Dixon over his shoulder, he started toward the two steps that led down to the grass.

The wood was polished so it didn't hurt his hands and knees like he thought it would, but the grass was definitely softer. If only he wasn't going to get dirty crawling around like this. After the rather difficult descent down the stairs, he sat in the grass for a moment, looking around.

There was a single tree in the yard, providing a decent amount of shade, but the fences were too tall to see over. He also couldn't hear any cars or city noise, just the wind and the sounds of birds and leaves. Dixon must have taken him away from town, but then again, his memory before he ended up here was still fuzzy. He could be in another country for all he knew.

After resting for a few minutes, he got onto his hands and knees again and made his way over to the tree, wary of ants on the ground. The shade felt nice in comparison to the hot sun, so he sat there for a while before moving on to the fence line.

The boards were tightly pressed together, so much he couldn't see between them which frustrated him. He crawled along the bottom of the fence until he reached where it disappeared into the shrub bushes. A dead end. He let out an angry hiss and slowly made his way back to the steps.

"What exactly do you want me to do out here?" he nearly shouted from the bottom of the stairs, angry that he was so frustrated and angry that Dixon had the nerve to just sit there and relax while all of this was happening.

"Whatever you want. Entertain yourself," the older man calmly responded.

"With what?! There's nothing for me to do!" Hasley sounded miserable at this point. He wanted to go home, he missed his friends, and he was tired of this ridiculous game. Emotion building in his chest, he bit back the urge to cry as his eyes started to sting.

"Enjoy the sun, if nothing else. I want you to be able to be out here so you don't have to stay in the nursery all the time," Dixon had put the newspaper down and was looking at Hasley from the table.

The blue-haired man in baby attire was sitting on his knees with his legs splayed at his sides and was leaning on his hands at his front to keep himself up. He almost looked tearful.

"I don't want to be here, Dixon! Just..." The younger's voice faltered, his eyes widening. That seemed to be his breaking point. Tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes and he squeezed them shut to stop the burning. His hands instinctively went to his face to rub the salty tears away, soaking his cheeks.

He began to sob before he could stop himself. Dixon was out of the chair in an instant and rushing to his side to scoop him up and lean Hasley against his chest, rubbing his back slowly. "Shh. Just breathe," he instructed quietly, bringing him back to sit down at the table.

Hasley didn't say anything in return or fight him for being held, he actually welcomed the shoulder to cry on. He was tired and upset. After about 10 minutes, his crying had died down to sniffles and he was no longer burying his face into Dixon's neck. He was sitting up on his knee and wiping his eyes and nose, keeping his gaze pointed down to avoid Dixon's.

"Are you alright?" Dixon asked. After a moment of hesitation, Hasley nodded and swallowed, realizing he actually felt quite exhausted after all of that. Why had he cried so easily? He seemed like he was trying to fit his role without meaning to.

A small pang struck his bladder and he released it almost automatically. He was too tired now to be bothered with holding it. Dixon observed the diaper swelling in the front when he heard the sound, feeling accomplished after having successfully comforted Hasley and seeing the man wet the diaper without having to be reminded.

"Good. Come on, let's go get you changed."

Hasley leaned onto his chest again when he was picked up, one of Dixon's arms under his bottom to support him. He rested his cheek on the older man's shoulder as they went back in and he was brought back to the nursery.

When he was sat on the changing table though, he noticed a halt in Dixon's movements, causing him to look up questioningly.

"Hasley?"

"Huh?"

"Do you need to...do anything else?" The question's meaning took a minute to reach him, but then he was snapped out of his exhaustion, his face growing red. He couldn't even find the words to reply. Dixon raised an eyebrow at the reaction. "You haven't done anything in...several days. You need to try at least."

"..." Hasley wanted to say something back, but he only ended up opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. This was more awkward and embarrassing than wetting the diaper the first time.

"...I'll leave the room if you would rather I do that," Dixon suggested. Scowling, Hasley sat back up, now angry again.

"Or you could just let me use the toilet like a normal person," he snapped. Dixon gave him a halfhearted smirk at that.

"Nice try. I'll give you a few minutes. Don't get off the table or you could hurt yourself, remember." It sounded like a taunt, but with the drug now in effect once more, Hasley realized he very well could easily hurt himself by falling on his numb legs. Dixon then turned and left the room, though Hasley noticed he didn't lock it behind him.

Biting his lip, he looked down at the diaper. The plastic stuck out around the holes of his shorts and the whole thing made them look puffy. Not only was this going to be embarrassing, it was just going to be downright messy and disgusting. But he had to go and he had no hope of getting to the bathroom in this state.

Taking a deep breath, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

Dixon only gave him about 5 minutes before he came back in and the older man was silently hoping Hasley had just done what he had been told to avoid more awkwardness in trying to persuade him. He knew it would come to this eventually, but he had began to worry since Hasley hadn't gone in a number of days.

The smell made the answer to his question obvious when he entered the room. Hasley was red in the face, more so than he had been before, and he looked uncomfortable overall.

"Lay down," was all Dixon said when he came over to the table and Hasley didn't argue. It took a bit longer this time to clean him up than it normally did and he made a mental note to empty the bin beside the changing table soon, but before long, Hasley was in a clean diaper. He also made sure to use a wipe to clean his dirty hands and knees.

At least being outside meant more bathes and more chances to bond, even if it was some twisted form of bonding. Hasley sure seemed too tired now to bother arguing over anything, even being held.

The younger man kept his eyes on the ceiling throughout the process, even when his hands and knees were cleaned up. He surely felt better after the release and he was all too glad Dixon didn't make any comments about it. It actually made him feel a bit better since he knew he would have to do it again sometime.

"I think you're ready to nap," Dixon laughed a little as he lifted Hasley up off the table. The man was nearly limp in his arms, not even willing to muster a reply. Dixon decided to put him in the playpen this time, seeing as there was a blanket and pillow there if he wanted to rest.

He went over to the crib and reached in for the little pacifier, staring at it before smirking. It seemed he would have to get a couple more for his "baby" so he wouldn't have to go searching for it every time.

When he turned around, he found Hasley had already laid back haphazardly on the blanket, his head barely on the pillow. He already looked like he had dozed off or was nearly there anyway. The sight was honestly adorable.

Dixon quietly went over and popped the pacifier into his mouth, smirking to himself when Hasley didn't even move. He decided to leave him be for a while, going out of the room and closing the door behind him. It had been a successful day already and it wasn't even noon yet.


	6. Into Town

Days were passing in quick succession. Hasley had lost track of how long he had been here. He had completely stopped resisting Dixon in everything he had been forcing on him.

God, he must have been here for weeks. Every time he looked back on this situation, he felt ridiculous for having not escaped already, but then he would say he would try again tomorrow, which never happened.

He drank his bottle, he had his diaper changed, and he went outside everyday like clockwork. Dixon seemed pleased he had finally fallen into a comfortable routine, but they both knew people got bored with things and it couldn't always be like this.

Today was a particularly rainy day. Having woken up a few minutes ago, Hasley was laying in the crib and watching the ceiling patiently as he listened to the rain patter on the roof.

He wished there was a window so he could see it. This tiny box seemed so unreal after how long he had spent in it, even though he went on regular trips to the yard. Everything seemed so cut off from the rest of the world, which he was sure is what Dixon wanted.

He barely recognized what he was doing when he suddenly wet the diaper. Not having to worry about going to a designated area to relieve himself, he almost seemed incontinent now. It concerned him, but on another hand, what did it matter? He was changed several times a day anyway.

He thought Dixon must have a camera somewhere hidden in the room because when he woke up in the mornings, Dixon always appeared with his bottle in hand. As if on cue, the door swung open as Hasley slowly raised himself off the mattress into a sitting position.

"Good morning," the older man greeted. Hasley rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned, scooting over so he could sit against the bars of the crib.

"It's raining," he stated plainly. Dixon offered a rare smile in return.

"It is. So unfortunately, we can't go out in the yard today." How dull. "But I do have somewhere planned for us to go. Which is why I need you to hurry and have your bottle so we can get ready, alright?"

Somewhere to go peaked Hasley's interest. Go where? Go out?

Having Dixon shove the bottle at him to feed himself felt...odd. But he took it anyway and after watching Dixon walk over to the dresser, he put the nipple into his mouth and began sucking down the formula. Once it was empty, he laid it down beside him and got onto his knees to look out over the rail.

"Where are we going?" he questioned. Dixon was taking some clothes out of drawers; a pink long-sleeve shirt and a pair of denim shorts.

"I need to run some errands. You'll behave while we're out, won't you?" He had come over to the crib and lifted Hasley out, his question a silent threat that it was in the younger's best interest to behave.

Hasley hesitated before nodding, his heart beating a little faster from anticipation as he was laid on the changing table. This was his chance!

...But he was actually going to have to go out in public dressed like he was. Perhaps because of his height and petite build, someone would think he actually was a young child. If they didn't, he might just die of embarrassment.

Once a clean diaper was secured around his hips, Dixon pulled the shorts up over it, leaving Hasley to notice how puffy the diaper was under the garment. It crinkled when he shifted and the plastic poked out over the top of his shorts.

He wanted to say something, but his throat felt choked when he tried. He didn't complain when the shirt was pulled over his head, looking down to see the upside-down face of a cartoon-ish cat peering at him from the front of the shirt.

He hadn't noticed Dixon bring in a soft shoulder bag, but it was there on the floor and the older man was packing some things into it. A set of spare clothes, two clean diapers, baby powder, another bottle full of juice, and...his pacifier. He had thrown the damn thing away so many times he had lost count, but somehow Dixon kept recovering it.

It took Hasley a few seconds more to realize it was a diaper bag and everything in it was preparation for going away from the nursery. He felt a little anxious the more he thought about this trip, but he wasn't sure why. This was his opportunity to escape and it would be too easy.

"Alright. Let's go," Dixon announced. He put Hasley on his hip, the younger's arms finding their way to his neck like they always did, and he headed for the door. Hasley should have tried to memorize the hallways from the nursery to the front door, but he didn't; he was too excited to go outside.

The front yard looked very similar to the back, a low hedge trimming the otherwise-ordinary house with a freshly-cut lawn, but there was a white picket fence with a gate out front. Beyond the gate, all Hasley could see were wide, rolling hills dotted with wildflowers. There was a road, but it seemed to disappear into nothing in the distance. How far from civilization were they?

Cold raindrops hit his head, shocking him away from his thoughts. There was a car outside the fence, parked on the side of the road and he could only guess that's where they were going.

Dixon went through the gate, locking it behind him and went to the car, opening the back door with his free hand. The car smelled sickeningly new and it looked it as well; the backseat was spotless and in the middle was a giant, padded car seat. Hasley involuntarily let out a whimper and squirmed as Dixon sat him into it, stretching across from the door.

"Stop kicking, Hasley," he ordered sternly. Hasley did stop a moment later, though he wondered why. The seat was plush and comfortable to sit on despite everything, but there were two pieces on the headrest that folded out at the sides, likely to keep a child's head from being forced around, but it only blocked Hasley's view.

Two straps were pulled over each shoulder and one came between his legs that buckled in the front and he was secured in. He opened his mouth again to try and speak, but he couldn't find anything worth saying so nothing came out. Dixon raised an eyebrow questioningly, then smirked and reached into a side pocket on the diaper bag.

Hasley wasn't sure what he was doing until the pacifier reemerged and was put in his mouth. Stunned, his eyes widened, but he kept it in anyway.

"It'll be a bit before we get to town so don't feel bad if you want to take a nap before then." The door slammed shut, then the door in the front opened, the car shaking a bit as Dixon climbed in. It was then Hasley realized the windows were blacked out and he couldn't see outside of them easily from where he was. Great.

He pulled the pacifier out of his mouth in annoyance, but didn't throw it like he planned to originally. He kept it in his hands to fidget with as he watched Dixon get adjusted in the front seat and turn on the engine.

As the car started down the road, Hasley realized it was going to be a painfully long ride. He leaned his head back against the cushion behind him with a tired huff. Looking down at the pacifier in his hand, he slowly put it back in his mouth and closed his eyes, listening to the rain hitting the windshield. May as well take Dixon up on that nap.

* * *

Every now and then, a small bump or stop would jar Hasley back into consciousness, but for the most part, he dozed throughout the ride. The nap made the ride seem much shorter and before he knew it, the car had turned off and he heard the door open. When he raised his head, the light coming into the car hurt his eyes and Dixon was no longer in the front seat.

A moment of panic gripped his heart when the backdoor opened and Dixon stood there looking at him. Hasley furrowed his brow at the smirk that appeared on the other's face, unable to understand why when he realized the pacifier was still in his mouth. Scowling, he spat it out.

Dixon chuckled and reached over to unbuckle the young man from the seat. "You don't need to be changed, do you?" he asked. Hasley shook his head, but as he was picked up out of the seat, Dixon gave his rear a squeeze to check for the sound of dry plastic anyway. Satisfied with the noise, he sat him down outside the car, startling Hasley.

They were in the parking lot of some sort of...shopping outlet. There were people all around, walking under the canopies and talking and laughing. It was so normal, but after having been cooped up with no other contact besides Dixon for nearly 2 weeks, he felt scared.

He should have screamed for help or ran, but instead he stood there, his legs shaking violently and eyes wide. He felt sick to his stomach. Instinctively, he reached out and took hold of Dixon's flannel coat, his fingers digging into the soft fabric in a death grip.

Dixon himself looked a little surprised at the reaction, but after watching him for a moment, he carefully removed Hasley's hand from his jacket and urged his much smaller fingers to hold onto his own. "Just don't let go of my hand, alright?"

Hasley looked up at him, then back away again, a frightened hold on the older man's hand. A few people had given him a curious side-glance, but nothing more. No one seemed that surprised to see him in this childish getup.

Dixon gathered the diaper bag and the pacifier that had been unceremoniously spit onto the floor of the car, then shut the door and urged Hasley to follow him into one of the buildings. The blue-haired man didn't notice what it was called, too preoccupied to even think about it, but the inside of the store smelled...odd.

There were clothes in bright colors hanging on the walls and on racks and a bored looking employee stood at the counter in the back, not bothering to greet them when they entered.

Dixon watched him stare for a few minutes, then nudged his shoulder gently. "Go see if there's anything you like. You need some more clothes." Hasley looked at him cautiously, his eyes widening when Dixon began to walk away from him to look through the clothes. He hurried after him, standing close by as he observed the clothes on the racks.

This wasn't his style at all, but he might as well pick something out. He had realized after about a week Dixon only had a few full sets of clothes for him. As Hasley felt the velvety material of a shirt between his fingers, Dixon had moved away and pulled a set of overalls from a rack. They were a pale blue and made of denim, but sported a patch of a puppy on the chest pocket.

"You would look adorable in this," he commented with a short laugh. Hasley felt a warm blush creep onto his face and looked away, back at the shirt sleeve he had in his hand. "Let's try this on you."

He gasped when Dixon took his hand and pulled him up to the counter, where the woman behind it gave them a quick once-over, then turned her attention to the older man.

"Can I help you?"

"He'd like to try this on," Dixon raised the hanger for emphasis. Hasley found himself hiding his face behind Dixon, desperately wanting to disappear.

He only prayed the woman thought he was an actual child and not this man's creepy friend who enjoyed wearing diapers, of which was very obvious. A quick glance into a mirror beside the counter confirmed how it felt; it was very visible. Anyone could tell he was wearing it.

"Sure." The employee pointed to an open doorway just behind the counter. "Dressing room's through there."

"Thank you." Dixon pulled his hand, urging him to follow. Hasley did as he was supposed to, following Dixon into the brightly lit back room. There were a few stalls and Dixon drug him over to one, closing and locking the metal behind them.

"I don't need you to help me," Hasley complained under his breath, feeling the other's hands unbuttoning his shorts and pulling at them. Dixon didn't justice the statement with a response as he pulled the shorts down, exposing the light pink diaper beneath it.

"Here," he took the overalls off the hanger, holding them close to the floor, "Put your feet through here." Hasley sighed, but complied nonetheless. After a few minutes of fumbling with the straps, Hasley could see himself in the mirror on the back of the door. As if he couldn't look any more ridiculous.

"I'd say it fits," Dixon laughed. "Alright. Come on."

Clothes shopping had never been Hasley's favorite thing so he was less than amused when it ended up taking them nearly an hour to pick out a few more things for him. If there was anything to be thankful for, at least Dixon hadn't made him try on everything.

The cashier put everything neatly into a large plastic bag and handed it over for Dixon to take. As they exited the shop, Hasley noticed it had begun to rain harder now, the sky turning a gloomy shade of grey. The blue-haired man took Dixon's hand instinctively.

"Where are we going now?" he asked once Dixon was back by his side. Many of the people who had been walking around the outlet had cleared out due to the rain, but a few were sitting under umbrellas outside a small café.

"I thought we could grab some lunch. Does that sound good?" Hasley nodded without question. Just hearing about food made his stomach growl.

When they entered the café, the strong smell of coffee and sandwiches hit him, causing him to bite his tongue. He thought 2 weeks of small portions would have made it easier for him to go longer without eating, but he was nearly salivating at the smell alone.

Dixon told him to find them a table while he went up and ordered, without asking Hasley what he wanted. Upon reflection, Hasley supposed a baby wouldn't really have a choice in what he ate, then he mentally slapped himself for calling himself a baby. Fuck Dixon. He was brainwashing him.

He found a booth in the corner and sat down on the plush seat, crossing his legs under the table and propping his hands on the edge while he waited. Eventually, Dixon came back with a couple sandwiches and a cup of coffee.

"What am I going to drink?" Hasley asked, annoyed. Dixon smirked a little and reached into the bag, pulling out a sippy cup full of what looked like apple juice.

"Here," he replied. Hasley stared for just a moment before he took it and sat back to eat. Over the past weeks, he had been eating in a highchair or he had been cradled in Dixon's arms for his bottles so it almost felt foreign to be sitting at a table without any tray to keep him in his chair.

He was ravenous and devoured the sandwich within a few minutes, taking the sippy cup to wash it down. Once it was empty, he pushed the plate away and sat back against the booth, satisfied.

Then without even thinking, he released the pressure in his bladder. He sat there for a moment, feeling a wave of awkwardness hit him at the thought he was wetting himself in public and no one was any wiser.

"Something wrong?" Dixon asked innocently. Hasley blushed furiously, then he felt his blood run cold at the feeling of something warm trickling down his leg.

"Uh-" he started, shifting into a panic. Dixon raised an eyebrow, then glanced over the table at the small wet spot forming on the other's shorts.

"Ah. Stand up, we'll go to the bathroom. Quickly."

Hasley thought he might die then and there, but he forced himself up anyway, hiding himself once more behind Dixon, only this time for a different reason. He cast a glance back at the table as they walked away, spying a tiny puddle on the floor under the table. The older man led him down a hall past the counter where there was a small bathroom.

Once he was behind the closed door, Hasley relaxed considerably, though he was still horribly embarrassed. Hopefully, no one had seen what had happened or the mess he had made. Of all the times for the diaper to leak! He felt his eyes burning with tears, but he held them back as Dixon began undressing him.

"I'm sorry-" he started, voice choked. He had no idea why he was apologizing, raising a hand to quickly wipe his eyes before the tears ran out.

"It's fine. I probably didn't put it on tight enough." Dixon pulled down the fold-out changing table from the wall and lifted Hasley onto it.

He never in a million years expected to be having his diaper changed by his ex-friend-turned-rival in a public bathroom after wetting himself and having the diaper leak in front of 20 people. He stared at the ceiling as his soiled shorts were taken off. Dixon stopped his hands at the tape on the diaper.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

"N-No, but-"

"Go ahead and finish so you don't waste a new one." Hasley reached up and covered his face, forcing himself to finish emptying his bladder in the already-soaked diaper. He sniffled when he heard liquid running off the plastic table onto the tile floor. "Don't worry, I'll clean it up," Dixon reassured him.

Once the flow came to a stop, Dixon removed the diaper and cleaned him with a wipe before taping a clean one around his bottom. He took a clean pair of shorts from the bag and fitted them over him before he was taken off the table and sat on his feet on the floor.

He stared at the yellow puddle beside the changing table, his embarrassment flaring up again as Dixon took some paper towels and cleaned it up, along with the table.

"This is why I came prepared," Dixon smirked at him. "Come on, let's go before someone finds the evidence and gets us both in trouble."

Hasley almost expected someone to be yelling at them when they came out of the bathroom, but no one seemed to have noticed the mess yet. Though if they stuck around, someone surely would before too long.

He held Dixon's hand as he led them out the front door, heading back toward the car. The rain had slowed to a light shower, water standing in the parking lot. The air felt humid and heavy, making his skin sticky with condensation.

"Are we going home?" Hasley couldn't stop himself before he said "home".

"Yeah. I think you need to rest." Dixon offered a smile as he took him back to the car.


	7. Comfort

Hasley supposed he must have picked up something when they went into town the other day. Not a day after they had returned, his throat had started feeling a bit dry. A simple cold would have been easy enough to get over, but of course things were never easy for him.

His limbs had started to feel sore and they hurt when he moved, he was exhausted, and Dixon could see the change in his body language. It was then the older man realized he had not prepared to deal with a sick person in his care. What an idiot! But he didn't even know what his captive had contracted.

Hasley worked through the obvious discomfort for as long as he could, but it made him miserable. He was thankful to lay down for the night, but he had no idea what awaited him next time he woke.

It was 4 AM. He woke in a cold sweat, shaking, and nauseous, gripping his aching stomach as he struggled to sit up on his knees, one hand over his abdomen while the other clutched the bars of the crib so hard his knuckles went white.

He felt cold and he was trembling, but his face also felt like it was on fire at the same time. But, his stomach-

He realized quickly he was going to vomit and only a second later, he couldn't control the heat crawling up his throat anymore. He choked and threw up, cringing at the acidic rush through his mouth and nose. He hadn't thrown up since he was a child, but it was still just as unpleasant as it had been then.

Without anything else to do, he started crying, overwhelmed from how he felt and having just vomited. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely surprised when Dixon came flying through the door. Did Dixon just stay here and listen in on him for anything going wrong?

"Hasley." The blue-haired man judged by the tone the other was using, he was surprised by what had happened.

"H-H-" He stuttered, his voice hoarse. He felt like he might be sick again before this was all over. "I'm-"

"Come on. Hold your arms up," Dixon instructed. Hasley did as he was told, too weak to do anything else. Needless to say, his clothes and bed were soiled from having thrown up. Dixon lifted him out of the crib, careful not to get any of the mess on himself as he carried him to the bathroom.

"You're burning up," he commented. He sat him on the floor in the bathroom and began stripping him of his clothes. The tile was like ice on his bare legs.

Hasley already felt cold so the removal of his clothes only left him more uncomfortable, tears beginning to flow freely down his face. He was dizzy and though he tried to make himself care that he was completely breaking down in front of Dixon, he just couldn't.

"It's alright. Just sit there for a minute," Dixon continued once Hasley was fully undressed, then turned and turned on the faucet in the tub, letting it fill with cool water. He needed to bring the other's temperature down as quickly as possible.

Hasley swallowed anxiously. "I-I'm going to-" Dixon hissed and helped him to stand, leaning his head over the toilet. Thankfully, this time wasn't nearly as violent at the first and didn't make a mess, though it did cause Hasley to collapse in another onslaught of tears. He didn't have the strength in his legs to keep himself up so he just sat on the floor pitifully as Dixon drew his bath.

Once it was done, Dixon picked him up gently and put him down in the cold water, causing him to whine and struggle.

"We have to do this, Hasley, you have a fever. I'm sorry. Just relax," Dixon sighed heavily, holding Hasley down in the tub. The younger let out another frustrated cry, trying to pry the other's hands off of him; he felt like he might freeze in the water and his vision was spinning.

"Hasley!" Dixon raised his voice a bit, hoping the change of tone would be enough to stun Hasley into submission. It didn't surprise Hasley, he knew he was acting out, but he didn't like this, he was tired, and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Daddy!"

That stopped the older man immediately. He stopped fighting Hasley and let the other stand up in the water, staring at him in confusion. Surely he hadn't actually...

"Hasley..." He put his arms around him again, realizing quickly that Hasley was still trying to get out of the bathtub. He must have been hallucinating; maybe Hasley was sicker than he had thought. "...Just sit down for a minute. Then we'll get out."

"..." Hasley stared at him through bleary eyes, then reluctantly sat back down in the cold water. He knew what he had said, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Exhaustion from throwing up twice had hit him full force. He would probably do anything Dixon asked of him at this point.

After about 10 minutes of silence as Dixon brought handfuls of water over Hasley's shoulders, he decided it had been enough time and began to lift him out of the water. Hasley's eyes threatened to close as he was stood on his feet, leaning against the taller man for support as Dixon grabbed a fluffy towel and dried him off.

"You can sleep with me tonight," Dixon explained, patting the towel against the other's skin, "I'll clean up the mess in the morning. I know you're tired. Come on." He hung the towel up and urged him out of the room. Hasley followed him, his feet noticeably dragging, over to the changing table where he was helped up to.

Dixon dressed him quickly and took him in his arms, smiling a little to himself when Hasley's head leaned over and came to rest against his shoulder. He still felt feverish, but he wasn't nearly as hot to the touch as he had been when Dixon had come into the room. By the time he got back to his bedroom, he could hear Hasley's slow, steady breathing.

Dixon's bedroom was by no means the fanciest. It only contained a large bed, a dresser, and a side table with a lamp. There were two doors on the other side of the room, one that led to a small bathroom and one a closet, and a window covered by blinds, but the room otherwise seemed pretty empty.

It wasn't safe for Hasley, but Dixon knew he needed to rest and it would take him quite a while to fix the crib so it could be slept in again. He supposed now he was glad he was a light sleeper; at least if Hasley tried to get out of bed in the middle of the night, he would know.

He laid the blue-haired man down on the bed, chuckling a little when the other's arms sprawled out limply at his sides, his head turned to the side. He was out cold by the looks of things. Dixon smiled again and pulled the blankets back, slipping under the covers beside the younger before pulling it up over them both.

Hopefully Hasley wouldn't wake up getting sick again and Dixon wouldn't catch whatever he had. But he couldn't make himself leave Hasley alone in the nursery in this condition.

Funny, this had started out as a way to get Hasley to submit to him and now that he had, Dixon didn't feel as satisfied as he thought he would. He had created someone who relied on him fully, but he couldn't use it to his advantage. He couldn't hurt Hasley like that, not in this state.

* * *

Hasley still felt like hell when he finally woke up, as he knew he would. Sickness didn't just disappear overnight. His throat was raw and he had a terrible taste in his mouth. He smelled like vomit, but his clothes were clean at least. The same couldn't be said for his diaper though; as he moved, he realized he had wet and messed it during the night.

He felt awful overall. Sitting up in the bed, he grimaced at the ache in his joints, blinking his eyes against the sun pouring into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he noticed this was not the nursery. It wasn't any room he had ever seen before. And he was completely alone in it.

"D-Dixon?" he called, cringing at the sound of his own voice. He couldn't speak as loudly as he wanted to. His throat hurt too much. It didn't matter anyway, there was no reply.

The room smelled musty, like an attic. Scooting off the edge of the bed, Hasley found his legs were weak, but not the same weak as when he was drugged with muscle relaxers. If Dixon had left him alone here, he was definitely going to take this opportunity to explore.

He went for the window first, using a finger to pull the blinds apart and peer out. It was warm and sunny outside and birds were chirping and playing in the trees in the front yard. How long had he been asleep? Suddenly, all the memories of the night before came crashing back down on him.

He remembered being cold, but also hot, throwing up and crying, being put in the tub by Dixon and throwing a fit, but it was all blurry. He couldn't tell if it had all really happened or if he had dreamt it.

The door clicked and Hasley jumped, turning on his heel to face the intruder. Dixon stood there in the doorway, eyes widened in surprise to see the younger man out of bed. He had a folded diaper and the box of wipes in his hand.

"...Er, I didn't think you would be awake so soon," he commented. Hasley noticed he wasn't wearing his usual coat and jeans; he was instead wearing a white cotton t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Had he been wearing that last night? He couldn't remember.

"I just woke up," Hasley replied, followed by a cough when his throat hurt.

"Sorry, I know you must feel terrible. Come here." Dixon walked over and patted the bed. "I'll change you." Hasley hesitated for a moment, then walked over, rubbing his gritty eyes as he went.

As he climbed onto the bed, he felt hunger tear into his stomach and he paused to hold it. Once it had passed, he flopped down on his back on the mattress, heaving a sigh at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

Dixon made quick work of his diaper, taping the clean one around his hips and giving it a pat for good measure. "There... Your fever seems to have gone down too. You don't feel nearly as hot," he observed. Hasley looked so comfortable laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, he almost didn't want to move him.

"..."

"I'm sure you're hungry. Come on. We'll go have breakfast," he urged, slipping an arm under Hasley's back. The blue-haired man let out a faint whine of protest, but otherwise didn't complain as he was lifted off the bed and into his caretaker's arms.

He had never let Hasley have a meal in the kitchen because there were too many sharp objects he could get ahold of somehow and use as a weapon, but he had prepared for him to come here eventually.

There was a small dining table in the center of the kitchen with a couple of chairs and a matching high chair. It looked like quaint, with yellow floral wallpaper, and bright sun flooded in between the curtains.

Once Hasley was secured in the highchair, Dixon went over to the counter and began to take out some supplies from the cabinets. Granted, there wasn't much, but there was enough to feed them that morning. Dixon silently reminded himself to go shopping next time he had the chance. Maybe he would take Hasley?

He sat a pan on the stove and turned on the burner, then grabbed a bottle and fixed the formula. Hasley rested his arms on the tray in front of him, wincing slightly at the faint ache in his joints. He still felt terrible of course, but it wasn't like last night or even the past few days. He hoped that the illness was working its way out and last night had been the worst.

He must have zoned out because he snapped out of it when a bottle was placed in front of him, but Dixon quickly went back to the counter, to the pan where he was putting in a few strips of bacon. Hasley looked between him and the bottle blankly.

Dixon usually gave him the bottle when they were in the nursery, but never when he was in the highchair. But... Hasley really didn't feel like holding it right now. He slumped back over the tray miserably while Dixon put on a pot of coffee.

"...Hm? Hasley, what's wrong?" The man noticed a couple minutes later that the bottle was still sitting there, untouched and getting cold. "Aren't you hungry?" Hasley only looked up with him with sad half-lidded eyes; he may have been exaggerating a little, but Dixon didn't have to know that.

And he certainly didn't pick up on it. Dixon took another glance at the bacon before walking over to the highchair and taking the bottle, popping the nipple into Hasley's mouth. "Here."

Hasley straightened himself and began to suck, allowing his eyes to close in bliss. Dixon sighed, but let a small smile cross his face at how innocent Hasley looked right then.

He had single-handedly turned this foul-mouthed overly confident heathen of a "warrior" into a helpless infant. He couldn't even feed himself anymore! And Dixon was fairly sure he was incontinent at this point. He'd turned him into a baby. His...

His baby.

Dixon's eyes softened on the scene as Hasley finished sucking down his formula. He suddenly remembered what the younger man had said last night, during his heat of illness. He had called him...daddy. He wondered if he remembered and if he did, why he wasn't dying of embarrassment around Dixon. Had he actually worn him down to that point?

"I'm hungry," Hasley complained. Dixon nodded and tossed the empty bottle into the sink.

"Working on it." He took the strips of bacon out of the pan and put them on a plate to cool while he cracked two eggs into the pan. While they cooked, he took a sharp knife and cut the bacon into smaller pieces for Hasley. Once everything was done, he served it to him on a pink plate.

"..." Dixon poured himself a cup of coffee as he watched Hasley eat ravenously. Everything felt strange now. He had prepared for this, expected it even, to completely break Hasley's personality down and make him dependent. That was the whole plan. But it had worked very well and now he was responsible for this child he had created.

What was he doing?

Hasley licked his fingers of the grease once the plate was clean, looking at Dixon curiously. He didn't seem to pick up on the internal struggle in the older man's mind. "Are we going anywhere today?" he asked innocently.

"...We need to go shopping," Dixon came back to reality suddenly, his voice monotone before it relaxed. Then he put on his usual charismatic smile. "Do you want to do that?" His response was an eager nod.

Hasley had become limited with his words in the recent weeks. He still knew how to speak and would when he needed to, but he usually responded with shaking his head, nodding, or impatient little noises when he was upset. It was just another product of Dixon's treatment.

He almost felt bad. Almost. But he did like this. What had he really planned to do? Turn Hasley into a needy child then throw him back to his friends? Surely they thought the man was dead now. How long had it been, two months? He hadn't really been keeping track.

Dixon decided that argument with himself was for another time. He needed to get Hasley out of the house for some fresh air. In the amount of time he had been here, he had only been away from the house once, a few days ago, and now that Hasley was easier to control, he didn't mind taking him places.

"Can we go to the park?" The sudden question broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. Dixon gave the younger man a curious look, eyebrows furrowed.

"Um... Sure. But we have to go shopping first." That was something he had never expected; for Hasley to request they go somewhere. But he did suppose Hasley was lonely, he spent most of his day in solitude and if he wasn't by himself in the nursery, he was doing something with Dixon.

"Okay," Hasley replied contently. He almost sounded like he wanted to add something else afterwards, but Dixon had no idea what.

"Well, let's go get you dressed and we'll go."

* * *

Hasley hated the long, boring drive into town. It took far too long to get there and he had dozed off within minutes of being in the quiet bumpy car, his pacifier in his mouth. Now that he wasn't throwing a fit whenever it was put in his mouth, Dixon was quickly learning it was a fast and easy way to get him to go to be quiet and go to sleep.

He never took it out on his own anymore and he was silent when it was in, resulting in him getting tired and falling asleep. Dixon found him with the pacifier in the morning after he had put it in for Hasley to sleep the night before; it seemed to calm him down, which was handy. He needed to get him more than one.

When they finally arrived at the store, Dixon parked the car and got out, which startled Hasley awake. The straps of the car seat were undone and Dixon lifted him out, sitting him down beside him, the younger man's hand grasped firmly in his own.

Dixon  _almost_  expected Hasley to break away and run at some point during their time in the store, but he never did. He held his hand and looked at the items on the shelves, humming quietly to himself; every now and then, he would ask when they were going to the park.

He picked up some more diapers and a few new pacifiers as well as the list of groceries he had been compiling. Hasley was a perfect angel the whole time.

"I think you deserve a trip to the park after that," he commented. Hasley was already back in his car seat, eyes wide and kicking his feet impatiently while Dixon loaded the bags in on the other side of the car.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You were really well-behaved." Dixon gave him a quick grin. "We'll go there next, then it's back home because I don't know how well you are yet." Hasley bounced on the seat, smiling and pulling at the straps.

"Okay, daddy!"

Dixon faltered for just a moment before he closed the door and went to get in on the driver's side.


	8. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for taking a whole damn year to update like jesus christ  
> Ive been busy as FUCK and haven’t had the time or motivation to write anything but I’m still really passionate about this story and so thankful for all the kudos and nice comments people have left. Thank you for supporting this fic even if I take fuckin forever to update it!!!! Lmao  
> SO I want to clarify something before I move onto the chapter.  
> These are my original characters from a comic I used to do, but didn’t get that far into and never finished. It does involve supernatural elements; these characters aren’t all human. I never actually like  
> hinted at this anywhere else in the story? So if that’s a turn-off, I’m sorry, but I was like 19-ish when i started writing this, I’m 21 now, and obviously my writing has improved a lot since.  
> There is a plot to this, there’s an endgame. This isn’t actually CANON in the characters’ universe, I started writing it purely for fun and these characters had recently been created for my comic at the time (I started writing this in 2016 i think? dam) so I threw them in as placeholders and ended up making this mess  
> MY POINT IS from here on out there’s going to be a lot more plot-related shit involving other characters.  
> I’ll try to keep anyone from getting too confused about the lore or spoiling too much because I think I’d like to take a crack at writing the comic plot on here as another fic sometime. But since this came first, I don’t want the readers who aren't interested in reading that to get totally lost either.  
> I can always clarify details in the comments too if anyone is interested  
> TLDR: There’s going to be supernatural elements in the plot, more characters, and in plot-relevant information I never disclosed previously, Dixon and Hasley are fallen angels that were exiled from heaven.  
> Sorry for the super long author’s note, onto the chapter!!!

“Why do we care about him again?”

A short, brunette man draped himself across a beat-up sofa, arms hanging limply over the side as he peered at two people huddled around a computer.

“He helped us,” the purple-haired girl stated.

“Yeah, he also tried to kill us. Like, multiple times,” Sugar retorted, propping his chin on his palm.

“It’s not just so black and white,” she shot the incubus an irritated look, “He helped us. He saved you, Sugar.”

“He also tried to  _ kill  _ me, Vera. And you and Josh. So what if he’s gone?” Sugar rolled onto his back, head tilted off the armrest, “Good riddance. It makes our problem with Dixon a hell of a lot easier.”

“Dixon could have him,” Josh piped up without looking away from the computer screen, “Dixon has been active, but not Hasley.

“Can’t you use some of your powers to find him, Mr. I-Can-Teleport? Christ’s sake.” The incubus had clearly had enough of talking about the exiled angel. He couldn’t quite explain his hatred of the man. He also couldn’t bring himself to care about Hasley’s well-being, seeing as he had had no regard for their own.

Their missions were completely different. They stood in the way of the Fallen.

“I can’t teleport at will,” Josh shook his head, “And seeing as I can’t feel his life force like a human, I can’t even tell you if he’s still in this world or not.”

There was a long moment of silence that fell on the three friends, each for their own reasons.

“We know because of him helping us, it strained his relationship with the others,” Vera leaned back in her chair, hands interlocked thoughtfully across her chest, “Who’s to say they didn’t do away with him? I don’t want to agree with Sugar, not for the same reasons, but he could be gone.”

“Dixon wouldn’t allow it,” another voice chirped, causing all the heads to turn. A dark-skinned man, similar in stature to Sugar, leaned against the door frame. Hooded red eyes caught Sugar’s frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Dixon and Hasley have history,” Addison went over to the sofa, shoving Sugar’s legs out of the way so that he could sit down. 

“How do you know this?” Josh turned around in the swivel chair, attention gone from the media they had been prowling for the past 2 hours.

“I’ve known these people for years. You saw them bicker before. It was always a battle for power in the ranks, but they had a past before the Fallen, back in Haven. It broke them up. But that doesn’t mean they stopped caring about each other.” Addison leaned forward, his elbows on his knees to look across his folded hands at the reaper.

“What I’m saying is, regardless of their leader’s commands, Dixon would never let anything happen to Hasley.”

* * *

**4 months later**

Trips to the park and store had become pleasant, a welcome escape from the claustrophobic confines of Dixon’s house. Was it a house? It looked like it on the outside to Hasley, had the basic rooms, but it was also laden with cameras and microphones, spying on his every action. Never letting him have a moment of solitude.

It had unnerved him at first, when he had noticed the lenses in the corners of the nursery, but he did suppose it was how Dixon knew the moment that anything went wrong. And it wasn’t as if he would see anything embarrassing on the surveillance that he hadn’t already seen before.

But over the past 6 months, there was nothing worrisome left to occupy Hasley’s thoughts. His days were planned out from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep and he enjoyed the monotony of it all. It was relaxing and he had felt himself melting below the surface, slowly suffocating without realizing it for a long time. Now, he just didn’t care.

Dixon liked it too. Of course, it took a lot of work to keep Hasley a secret like he did, it wasn’t as if he could shirk off his duties, lest he seem suspicious, but he had been able to handle it so far. 

He just hated any moment he spent away from his baby.

Hasley had never been very affectionate when they dated; it was always something that annoyed him. He’d ask for more physicality, it would be returned begrudgingly for a while, then Hasley would scoot away, not liking the contact.

Now, the infantilized angel pined for touch, clinging to Dixon’s shirt and whining when he was put down. Neither of them could get enough of it.

But, there were more challenges that came with Dixon’s time away from the house he had commandeered for this project. Hasley was entirely dependent on him, meaning when Dixon was gone, he couldn’t eat, change his diaper, or bathe. More often than not, Dixon returned and opened the door to a miserable 5’4” toddler sitting on the floor, bawling his eyes out and crying for daddy.

It was showing in his neediness as well. He was clingy, cried when Dixon was out of sight, and took forever to be put to bed at night because he would stay up fussing for so long.

Dixon had absolutely no one to blame, but himself. It was completely his fault that Hasley was no longer able to function like an adult or care for himself in any capacity. But with his job to do, there was no way he could be in two places to do his work and care for a child.

There was only one option. And he was positive that Hasley was not going to want anything to do with it.

* * *

“We’re going to try something new today,” the older man stated with a smile as he knelt down, hoping that it would imply this was going to be a good surprise.

Sitting on the cushy floor of the nursery, Hasley raised his head, dark blue eyes staring up at him. He had an array of toys scattered around him, clad in only a t-shirt and diaper and clinging to the stuffed dog from his crib. That had become his favorite.

“I have a present for you,” Dixon stood up. He went over to the locked bathroom door and opened it; Hasley craned his neck to look around the man and get a glimpse of what he was hiding in there.

It had been hell trying to think of a solution to Hasley’s incontinence that didn’t involve having someone on duty to change the man’s diapers all day. The only thing he had been able to come up with was retrain Hasley to use a toilet.

That was going to be easier said than done.

Dixon pulled a large object into the room, plastic and a pink-ish red in color, and sat it on the floor in front of Hasley. It had a bulbous body and a tall neck; on the top sat the molded face of a swan with two handles protruding from the sides. The smaller angel furrowed his brow at the item, then looked back to his caretaker for an explanation.

“This is your potty.”

The confused look didn’t disappear. Dixon frowned, then shook it off, getting down on the floor beside his baby.

Hasley moved away from the toys, but kept his stuffed dog clutched firmly in one hand as he shifted onto his knees and crawled over to the adult-size potty, running his fingers over the smooth plastic. This wasn’t something he had ever seen in the house before.

“What’s it do?” he asked.

“You know how you potty in your diaper?” Dixon patted the other’s rear gently, inciting a crinkle of the plush material that covered it. “You do that in here,” he pointed to the bowl in the center of the swan’s body.

“Why?”

Well. How should he respond to that?

“Um,” Dixon crossed his legs, leaning forward slightly. “If you potty in here, you don’t have to wait for Daddy to come change your diaper.” Hasley sat back down, not seeming scared of his surprise, but not exactly seeming interested either.

“I like when you change my diaper,” he pouted, fumbling for a pacifier that lay a few feet away to shove in his mouth.

“I know. I like doing it, but I’m not always here. You know it doesn’t feel good when you have to wait to be changed.”

He was right, Hasley didn’t like that feeling, but he did like when Dixon finally got home and he was laid on the changing table, his problem taken care of, then they got to cuddle. Why would he use some stupid potty?

“Come here,” Dixon reached out, slipping his hands under Hasley’s arms and making him stand. With skilled fingers, he ripped the plastic tape off the sides of the diaper, letting it fall between his legs.

“I didn’t go yet,” Hasley said, confused as to why he was being changed now. Dixon shifted onto his knees and lifted Hasley up, swinging one of his legs over the toilet and making him sit down on the bowl. The angel stared in alarm at what had just happened, then moved to remove himself from the seat.

“Don’t,” Dixon’s firm voice sounded beside him, a solid hand on his hip.

“I don’t wanna go,” Hasley complained. The plastic felt weird against his legs and he didn’t like the fact he no longer had the comforting clasp of the diaper around his hips.

“Hasley.”

The older man’s voice had reached the gruff pitch it did when he was unhappy with Hasley. It didn’t happen often; he remembered the last time had been because he had shredded one of the board books in his playpen out of boredom one day. He was scolded in that tone and it was followed by a spanking. He didn’t get many of those at all.

That voice held an unspoken warning, but Hasley didn’t want to listen, scowling as he tried to stand up again.

“No!” He was shoved back down easily, forced to remain seated.

“If you don’t stay there, I’m going to spank you,” Dixon growled deeply. With the threat out in the open like that, Hasley shrank back, clinging to the plushie in his arms.

Well. He didn’t say he had to  _ relieve himself _ ; he just had to stay sitting.

So he stayed there, but Dixon never heard any sounds relating to Hasley using the toilet. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. It was much easier to untrain him than to instill the concept back in.

“You have to potty,” he instructed, hoping it was a case of the man just not understanding what he needed to do. Hasley frowned at him, eyes annoyed, and shook his head. Anger flared on Dixon’s face just for a moment before he took a deep breath and stood up.

“Fine,” he said, “But you’re going to sit there until you do.” With that, he straightened out his shirt and went over to the rocking chair in the corner, plopping down in it and taking out his phone. Hasley wouldn’t receive any of his attention until he obeyed, he decided.

Hasley wasn’t used to this kind of behavior. This wasn’t something he did every day, nor had he ever done in his time staying with Dixon, but he didn’t like it. Why did he have to change things? Why couldn’t he just keep using his diaper? It wasn’t hurting anything, he thought bitterly as he sat on the potty, angrily glaring at the back of its head.

After a few minutes, he shifted, but didn’t lift his rear off the seat, uncomfortable from sitting in the same place with his legs at an odd angle for so long. He took turns running his hands over the plastic handles and face of the swan, feeling the curves and indentations. 

This was torture.

10 minutes later, he was nearly falling asleep where he sat, his head leaned forward as he gripped the handles, when a small trickling sound caught his attention.

Immediately realizing what he was doing, he struggled to stop the stream before Dixon heard it, but he had definitely begun to urinate into the bowl.

He glanced over at Dixon who returned the look, obviously having heard the noise, but no one said a word. Dixon wasn’t sure if he had actually heard it or not. Hasley huffed and turned his head back, leaning back over with a frustrated expression.

He wasn’t used to having to hold it anymore. Most of the time, as soon as the urge hit, he relieved it because he always had the diaper between his legs to catch it. Now that he was actively trying to keep from relieving himself, it  _ hurt _ . He squirmed, trying to draw his legs up to quell the discomfort in his abdomen.

Dixon knew it was coming, but Hasley was still going to be stubborn. It was fine, he told himself, it would happen eventually.

He didn’t hold it for nearly as long as he thought he would have been able to.

Hasley whined and pressed his head forward into his arms, upset that he couldn’t win against his body as the loud sound of liquid hitting plastic was heard plainly throughout the room.

Dixon smirked to himself and stood up from the rocking chair, coming over to sit beside him.

“Good boy,” he said softly, getting down to his level. Hasley was still frowning as he finished urinating, but he was glad it was over. Could he go back in his diaper now?

He was lifted off of the toilet and carried over to the changing table where he was laid down on the cool surface. In that instant, any lingering feeling of unhappiness from being forced to use the potty was gone. Now they could cuddle.

Dixon used a wipe to clean him up, then taped a new diaper around him, picking him back up in his arms and heading over to the rocking chair once more. With his baby on his lap, he pulled him close into his chest, hearing Hasley’s content sigh and feeling him snuggle into his shirt.


End file.
